


The Second Time

by Fiorenza_a



Category: The Professionals
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:29:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiorenza_a/pseuds/Fiorenza_a
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>Doyle awoke with the sudden awareness of being very alone, the sheets beside him cool and empty. There hadn't been a night like this for a while now.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Time

Doyle awoke with the sudden awareness of being very alone, the sheets beside him cool and empty.

There hadn't been a night like this for a while now. The bedroom door was open, the corridor beyond faintly illuminated with the eerie light spilling from the living room. The television would be on, but the lights off, in deference to Doyle's need for sleep. The sound would be muted, a hairy, tank-topped mathematician explaining, for the benefit of the insomniac students of the Open University, the intricacies of a calculation broadcast and rebroadcast for the best part of a decade. Never at the cutting edge of fashion, the price of his immortal hirsuteness, a wardrobe grown increasingly risible with time.

In the early days, when these nights were more frequent, Doyle had wondered if any of this stolen schooling would rub off on his partner. Would Bodie absorb the underpinnings of cubism or the medieval city states of Italy during his weary vigils?

Doyle eased himself off the bed, even distracted and in a flat not his own, especially in a flat not his own, Bodie would be attuned to every creak of settling floorboard and gurgle of ill trained plumbing. It was always better to get to him before he suspected the approach.

Doyle shrouded himself in the duvet against the chill of the night and padded into the living room.

Bodie lay the length of the settee, feet on one armrest, head on the other, wrapped uncharacteristically in a dusky lilac dressing gown of jacquard satin and staring at the shadow-play on the ceiling.

''Just getting some tea, okay mate?'' Doyle announced, not pausing a step on his way to the kitchen.

Bodie said nothing, making no move as his partner clattered about under the strip lighting, clutching the duvet to him as he made tea and grabbed the biscuit tin.

Two mug handles clasped in one hand and the biscuit tin gripped firmly under an elbow, Doyle retained control of his unwieldy cloak with his free hand and operated the rocker switch for the fluorescent lighting with his forehead. The eye-shockingly bright kitchen plunged once more into the kindness of instant gloom.

''Budge up a bit, can you, mate? Me 'ands are kinda full 'ere'' Doyle ordered at a volume more appropriate to midday camaraderie than this middle of the night funk.

A slow unfurling followed as Bodie complied. Feet coming to rest on the floor, head lolling back against the cushions behind him so he could continue to stare at the ceiling.

''It's in front of you'' Doyle advised his partner redundantly, as he placed Bodie's mug on the coffee table in front of him and prised the lid off the biscuit tin to inspect the contents. ''See you haven't nicked all the best ones yet, fancy a chocolate digestive?'' Doyle added, taking one for himself and urging ''Help yourself, mate'' as he set the now lidless tin on the coffee table next to Bodie's mug.

Curled up inside his cocoon with his mug of tea, Doyle devoted himself to the arcane delicacies of biscuit dunking.

The indeed resplendently bearded mathematician on the box, bearing out Doyle's CI5 honed instincts and looking faintly apologetic for having troubled them, promised to return with what Doyle presumed must pass as an in joke amongst those whose interest in figures extended beyond the vital statistics of Miss World. Idly, he wondered if anyone had ever laughed at it.

The continuity announcer introduced the next topic of edification with knowing whimsy, the lateness of the hour permitting such liberties.

''Maybe they could do a turn as a double act'' observed Doyle, indicating the television screen with a nod of his head ''Liven things up a bit.''

''Couldn't sleep'' Bodie unhurriedly informed the ceiling.

''That's alright then, was worried you were starting to get a thing for Catweazle there. Your tea's getting cold.''

Bodie brought his head upright and dutifully bent forward to take up his tea and snaffle something from the biscuit tin ''You didn't have to get up. I'm fine.''

''Bed was cold. How long you been out here, being fine?''

''Had a bit of a dream.''

''Figured'' said Doyle ''Same one?''

Bodie nodded, reluctantly.

''Sorry, mate.''

Bodie shrugged ''Not your fault.''

''If you say so, sunshine. Let me be sorry anyway. You gonna come back to bed?''

Bodie said nothing, sipping his tea and sorting through the bottom of the tin for broken biscuits. Big kid about broken biscuits was Bodie, not that Doyle had heard mention of any shop which still sold them for decades. There'd been a stall on the market for years, but that too was long gone. The pitch now given over to bolts of material for saris.

Doyle himself wouldn't have given the assorted fragments house room. He agreed with the great British public, such shameful badges of hardship were best forgotten, but Bodie seemed to relive his childhood with nostalgic glee whenever he got his mitts on them. Whatever had driven Bodie to sea, it hadn't been unhappiness. It wasn't the torments of childhood which disturbed his nights.

Occasionally, the later torments, born of earning his living with a gun, troubled his sleep, but those were night frights. His brain reliving the might-have-beens or sorting through the aftershock of events. Gasping horrors which fled upon waking and could be settled with soft words and softer kisses.

''You can bring your tea with you'' suggested Doyle encouragingly ''You must be frozen, come back to bed where it's warm, eh mate?''

Bodie cast a derisive eyebrow in his partner's direction ''That the best you have to offer, Doyle?''

Doyle grinned lasciviously ''Well, now that you mention it...''

''Gonna shag me senseless?'' challenged Bodie obstreperously.

''Crossed my mind.''

''It would'' dismissed Bodie.

''Don't normally complain.''

''It's that bloody bed, why d'we have to keep it?''

''You know why'' replied Doyle evenly.

''Bloody Cowley.''

''That was the deal, two more weeks, then we get a place of our own. This all gonna stop then?''

Bodie said nothing, standing abruptly and taking his tea and a handful of broken biscuits to the window. He nudged the gap in the curtains with his knuckles, glancing briefly outside, then withdrew the hand to pop a piece of biscuit into his mouth and wash it down with tea. His eyes roaming the room as if reconnoitring.

''Well, is it?'' repeated Doyle.

Bodie continued his reconnaissance of the room, throwing another couple of broken biscuits into his mouth as if they were peanuts and supping his tea.

''Come to bed, love'' coaxed Doyle, reigning in his impatience with some effort. He knew why Bodie hated the bed, but he wasn't going to get Bodie to admit it standing there like a surplus standard lamp.

Bodie blinked deliberately and swivelled his eyes in Doyle's direction. _''Love?''_ he enquired scathingly.

''It slipped out'' muttered Doyle.

''You wanna watch that, mate'' replied Bodie, the steel of his opprobrium hidden in a confection of light hearted innuendo ''Respectable copper like you? Should be more careful. Never know who might be watching.''

''Yeah, yeah, I know'' nodded Doyle in weary acknowledgement ''Never in the house, so it's never on the street.''

''You know it makes sense.''

''Some people have sane jobs, where they don't have to worry about some sadistic bastard targeting their other half.''

''Oh yeah?'' enquired Bodie, throwing a last crumb of biscuit into his mouth and draining his tea ''Where d'you get one of them, then?''

''Sane jobs?'' clarified Doyle morosely ''I dunno. If I did, I wouldn't be stuck out here in the middle of the night with my ijit of a partner stuffing himself on biscuits and refusing to come back to bed, would I?''

''Very true'' agreed Bodie amiably ''Another cuppa?''

_''Bodie!''_ exploded Doyle, patience at an end ''Bed. Now!''

''Oh very masterful, that work with the birds, does it?'' asked Bodie, fitting the lid back on the biscuit tin and collecting Doyle's mug.

''Wouldn't know'' Doyle confessed despondently ''can't remember the last time I had a bird.''

''That's what love does for you, sunshine'' observed Bodie unrepentantly.

''Miss 'em sometimes'' admitted Doyle in a small bleak voice.

Bodie's measured tread faltered hardly a step as, without the benefit of lighting, he dumped the biscuit tin on a work surface and put the empty mugs in the sink.

''Not 'aving the op for you, Doyle'' Bodie stated gently as he returned.

''I know'' answered Doyle tonelessly ''Just miss boobs, y'know?''

''Yeah'' conceded Bodie ''Me too. You always were a flat chested little devil. Now, 's like making love to a xylophone.''

Bodie resumed his seat beside his partner and they both stared at the Open University's take on nineteenth century feminist literature in heedless unironic contemplation.

''Bed?'' Doyle repeated eventually.

''Yeah, alright'' sighed Bodie and got up to turn off the television, plunging the room into utter darkness until their eyesight began to adjust.

Doyle stood up and shuffled in his cocoon towards the bedroom, Bodie following faithfully in his wake.

''That my dressing gown?'' asked Doyle as they reached the bedroom door.

''Couldn't find mine.''

''Lucky it fits.''

''It's a dressing gown Doyle, not a bloody wedding dress.''

''Wouldn't want you in a dress'' retorted Doyle petulantly as he settled on the bed and started arranging the duvet around himself ''Fancy you in a suit.''

''What, the full morning get up?'' asked Bodie, divesting himself of his borrowed finery.

''Yeah, or we could both wear uniform.''

''Kinky'' approved Bodie as he climbed back into bed.

Doyle snuggled up against him ''You're bloody freezing, mate.''

''Warm me up, then'' suggested Bodie pragmatically.

Doyle latched onto a nipple and suckled gently.

''You really do miss boobs, don't you?'' enquired Bodie indulgently, amused and mildly distracted.

Doyle detached himself, grinning evilly ''Yeah, but not 'alf as much as I'd miss this'' he said, groping between Bodie's legs with wanton shamelessness.

Bodie retaliated by rolling over and trapping Doyle beneath him, leaning in to nip at an earlobe and proclaiming ''Hussy'' on a gust of moist heat.

Doyle arched off the bed as far as Bodie's weight would allow him, squirming more at the tickling breath in his ear than at the attempt Bodie was making to pierce it.

''Stop that Bodie, you're worse than a bloody cocker spaniel.''

Bodie rocked his hips strategically ''Funny you should mention that, Doyle.''

Doyle pushed at his partner ''Would you get off me, you great buffoon.''

''What if I like it here?'' enquired Bodie, playing his tongue along the contours of Doyle's ear.

Doyle shoved again, this time with an unheeded desperation ''Bodie, you great clown, shift yourself.''

''Not on your life, Doyle. Just getting comfortable.''

Doyle suddenly jackknifed as a wracking cough tore through him. Bodie scrambled back as if scalded ''Ray? You okay? Ray?''

Doyle nodded through the spasming coughs which followed, eyes watering as he tried to bring them under control. Bodie had large warm hands on him, soothing his constricted chest and warming his back. Working him until the coughing eased and he hung limply in Bodie's arms, gasping apologetically ''Sorry mate, ruined the moment.''

''You okay? You're sure?''

Doyle nodded mutely, still catching his breath.

''Bloody hell, how much longer?'' demanded Bodie.

'''Least we got your hands warm first'' Doyle breathed with hoarse amusement.

''They said it wasn't pneumonia'' protested Bodie obdurately.

''It wasn't, it isn't.''

''Then why are you still like this? Hell's teeth, Doyle, what d'you expect of me?'' Bodie's eyes squeezed tightly shut against the pain and injustice of it as he spilled his suffering into one raw syllable _''Twice.''_

Still cradled in his partner's arms, Doyle answered ''I'm sorry, Bodie.''

Lost in his own vision of hell, Bodie again railed at some uncaring private deity _''Twice.''_

Doyle lifted a hand to stroke his partner's jaw ''I'm better, Bodie. It's a cough, I'm supposed to cough, clear my lungs. You know that.''

''And is it?'' asked Bodie, opening his eyes to meet Doyle's concerned gaze.

In response Doyle began a feeble struggle to free himself of his partner's support, but Bodie stopped him and instead slid them both down to cuddle against each other on the mattress.

''Never feels like it, when it gets like that'' admitted Doyle ''but my lungs are clearing, be fit enough to return any day now. Just waiting on the medical.''

''Your heart's still going like a steam hammer.''

''In love, aren't I?'' asked Doyle tenderly ''With this daft bastard who can't sleep in our bed.''

Bodie caught Doyle's hand and raised the fingertips to his lips ''You were just lying here, last place we thought to look for you.''

''I know'' answered Doyle softly.

''That traitorous bastard said he'd checked, your flat was empty.''

''I know'' repeated Doyle.

''By the time Cowley twigged, you'd been here three days.''

''I know'' murmured Doyle, caressing Bodie's temple, brushing back soft dark hair which sprang forward again with the passing of his fingers ''You should let this grow, sunshine, you'd look beautiful.''

''I'd look like bloody Scarlett O'Hara'' muttered Bodie darkly.

''And I'd be Leslie Howard.''

''Clark Gable'' corrected Bodie.

''I look more like Leslie Howard'' objected Doyle.

''Yeah, but she doesn't marry Leslie Howard.''

''I'm trying to be romantic and you're auditioning for a stint on Clapperboard?''

''Well if it's romance you're after...'' Bodie brought his face close to Doyle's and kissed him gently on the lips, Doyle responded with a gentle pressure of his own.

''Mmmm, nice'' murmured Doyle contentedly ''More please, sir.''

_''More?''_

''Yes sir, please sir.''

''Can't have skinny little orphans, like you, going around asking for more'' squawked Bodie in theatrical outrage.

''I think you'd like it.''

''That's not in the book.''

''Bloody well 'ope not, Oliver's just a kid. I'd 'ave to arrest you.''

''That be with handcuffs?'' asked Bodie with a sly waggle of eyebrows.

''Sick, that's what you are.''

''Not me, guv. I'm an honest pervert, straight up.''

''Is it?'' grinned Doyle.

Bodie looked between them ''Getting that way, sunshine. Want some help?''

''Am I gonna wake up and find you on the other side of the flat, again?''

''It's the bed'' answered Bodie with heartbreaking simplicity.

''It's a bed, love'' Doyle replied gently, bringing his lips to meet Bodie's ''Just a bed.''

''Ray...''

''I know, you don't want us using it. Doesn't mean you don't need to hear it.''

''You think I'm that soppy?''

''I know you are, c'mere'' the teasing brush of lips developed into a full sweet kiss.

As they parted Bodie rolled them, bringing himself to lie on Doyle and moving against him. Doyle moaned softly, head arching back into the pillows as Bodie's movements kindled fires which neither raged nor would be doused.

''You're killing me'' Doyle protested breathlessly.

''You think I should go easy on you?'' responded Bodie, reaching between them ''You any idea what it's like, busting in here and finding you shackled to this bloody bed?''

Bodie had Doyle in his grasp now and was punishing him with his fingers, drawing them along Doyle in a rhythm experience had taught him robbed Doyle of control and pushed him over the edge hard and fast.

''That's twice, Doyle'' Bodie continued roughly ''Breaking into your bloody flat to find you like that, gasping your bloody last because you're too stubborn to go out quick. Hanging on by your fingernails, waiting for me to find you.'' Doyle was straining now, release a pulse beat away. Bodie sent him over, spewing his resentment into Doyle's ears as Doyle seized and spewed his warmth between them ''But what happens on the day I don't get here fast enough, eh? On the day it's too late? On the day you're just worm bait and I have to live with that?''

Doyle remained suspended for a moment, panting and sweating, the damning nature of his release an echo of Bodie's pain. Then there were only tears, soft and lush, another form of release ''I'm sorry Bodie, I'm so sorry.''

Bodie held onto him, soothing and comforting him, pressing dry kisses to his temple and into his hair ''You daft bugger. You'd think I'd know better than to take it out on you by now, I know what you're like, but I can't help myself, not when you scare me like that. I can't bear the thought of losing you.''

''I know that, you stupid great lump'' sniffed Doyle ''kept going through me head, what it'd do to you, if I died. I hung on for you, I always hang on for you.''

''Don't you think, I don't know that? I tore the place apart looking for you, only I never looked here.''

Something in Bodie's voice snagged in Doyle's ears and a comprehension that had always been waiting blossomed between them.

''You didn't want to look here'' Doyle whispered, awestruck, into the night shadows ''You believed that lying bastard because some part of you couldn't face finding me here again.''

''What have you been reading this time, Doyle? I'm gonna withdraw your library privileges, you keep coming up with that kind of psycho-twaddle.''

''I had a stinking cold'' continued Doyle, undeterred ''I was gonna cry off, but you said Cowley needed us, that we couldn't trust the Old Man's back to that snide little twister. If only we'd bloody known. They missed the Old Man, but I was too slow. Missed him, grabbed me.''

Bodie said nothing, clinging to Doyle as if he expected his partner to be torn from his arms at any moment.

''They brought me back here 'cos they figured, once the place had been searched, no one would think to look again. Weren't wrong, were they?''

''Easy when you're the one doing the bloody search'' added Bodie bitterly _''Yes, sir. Searched Doyle's place, sir. Nothing there, sir. Better send Bodie on a wild goose chase, sir.''_

''It wasn't your fault, Bodie.''

''That right? That bastard hated me. They went for Cowley, but when I stuck a spanner in the works, they went after you. Because that bastard hated me. They were gonna let you die of thirst, in your own flat, manacled to this bloody bed, Doyle. Because that bastard hated me'' Bodie clutched at Doyle convulsively and whispered savagely ''And I nearly let it happen.''

''But Cowley cottoned on, figured out who must have set him up'' soothed Doyle ''and, by all accounts, you took all of two seconds to put that together with who had searched my flat and came tearing in here like the bloody SAS.''

''I _am_ the bloody SAS'' reproved Bodie gently ''What did you expect, a calling card and a box of Milk Tray?''

''They reckon you should starve a cold and feed a fever'' observed Doyle irrelevantly ''Can't say it did much for mine, just swapped one for the other.''

''You looked bloody awful, mate'' agreed Bodie fondly ''Stinking with fever and half out of your head. You do know you spat at me, right?''

''Did I?'' asked Doyle, as if they were reminiscing over an early romantic tryst.

''Well, you would have done'' Bodie qualified with gentle indulgence ''if you hadn't been so bloody dehydrated.''

Doyle smiled blissfully ''Seems like I owe you two.''

''Two?'' enquired Bodie warily.

''Yeah, two'' replied Doyle, his hand gliding in gentle caresses down Bodie's torso ''One, for getting me out of this bed'' Doyle's fingers slid below Bodie's navel and sought their prize amongst the dark curls at Bodie's groin ''And two, for getting me back into it.''

''What are you doing, Doyle?'' asked Bodie, his voice alive with suspicion.

''You telling me, this isn't in the SAS training manual?'' asked Doyle innocently, as his fingers stroked and cajoled.

''Not the bit I read'' replied Bodie, somewhat distractedly.

''Well known interrogation technique, this'' explained Doyle ''You'll be putty in me hands.''

''You must be doing it wrong then, 'cos it's gone all hard.''

''Just bear with me'' muttered Doyle unabashed ''I think I can fix that.''

Doyle slid down the bed and exchanged his fingers for his tongue, Bodie jerked in response.

''That's not helping, Doyle'' Bodie choked breathlessly ''You're making it worse.''

Doyle didn't reply, instead using both his fingers and his tongue to bring Bodie to an exquisitely sculptured arousal, every vein and sinew strained to its limits, holding him there for long agonising seconds until Doyle took pity and swallowed the virulence he had conjured.

Bodie's whole body was consumed with arousal. His breathing and heartbeat meeting in an erratic duet, as the wet demanding heat of Doyle's mouth commanded his performance and hurtled him beyond control, but not before Doyle's snakelike reflexes had removed him from the line of fire.

Doyle watched Bodie empty himself of his generative essences with cat-like satisfaction. When the prodigious pulsing had finished, Doyle dabbled a finger in Bodie's juices and observed mischievously ''Nothing wrong with your levels of hydration.''

Bodie regarded him with breathless sardonic irony ''Your interrogation technique's up the spout, Doyle.''

''Oh yeah? How's that?''

''Didn't ask me any questions, did you? Too late now, all I want is a nice long kip. Which, come to think of it, I can 'ave, since the Cow isn't expecting to see this handsome mug until this evening.''

''Ah, but I didn't say I wanted to ask you any questions'' replied Doyle ''l said you'd be putty in me hands.'' Doyle bent to place a tender kiss on the vulnerable satiated flaccidness which now occupied Bodie's groin ''See? Soft as butter.''

Bodie's face took on a tenderness of its own ''No, mate. That's you.''

Doyle moved up the bed to snuggle into Bodie's embrace ''You're the only one who thinks so.''

''I'm the only one that matters.''

Doyle yawned and wriggled himself into a comfortable sleeping position '''S long as you know that.''

Bodie planted a dopey kiss on the curls tickling his nose ''It's a bloody awful bed, Doyle.''

''Stay in it, anyway?''

''You ask too much, sometimes.''

''I know'' agreed Doyle, unrepentantly '''s part of me charm.''

''Fortnight, and we get a new one?'' Bodie tested.

''Told you, never happens again. New flat, just the two of us. Scout's honour.''

''Since when were you a scout, Doyle?''

''I'll apply in the morning.''

''Aren't you a bit old?'' enquired Bodie with wry amusement.

''Cowley can swing anything. Now stop talking and get some kip, I'm bloody shattered.''

''Self, self, self'' admonished Bodie, virtuously.

''I love you, Bodie.''

''Always were a soppy sod, g'night Ray.''

'''Night, Bodie. Sweet dreams...and that's an order, mate.''

''And a stroppy one.''

''Yeah, and you love me anyway'' Doyle sighed happily as his breathing settled and he drifted out of consciousness.

''God help me, Goldilocks, but I do. More than life itself'' murmured Bodie as he followed his partner into the land of Nod.

 

END

**Author's Note:**

> References:  
> [Open University](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Open_University)  
> [Catweazle](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catweazle)  
> [Clapperboard](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clapperboard_\(TV_series\))  
> [Cadbury's Milk Tray UK TV Adverts, 1960s/1970s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=THH8p21akrA) YouTube (Vid)  
> With nods to [Oliver Twist](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Twist) by Charles Dickens & the 1939 film adaptation of [Gone with the Wind](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gone_with_the_Wind_\(film\))


End file.
